


Witchers' Dark Souls

by FromAbyss



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Eventual Smut, F/M, Heist, Magic, Minor Religious Aspects, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert, Rituals, Slow Burn, hexes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 09:45:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17261984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromAbyss/pseuds/FromAbyss
Summary: You’re just a thief trying to make it by. Never in your career did you expect to be part of a heist on a grand scale and certainly not with the ultimate Wraith.





	1. Just Another Night

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year y'all! Good grief I've been wanting to get this story off the ground for a while now. Gotta give ol' Gabe some love the poor soul. This story's a Modern Fantasy AU so mythical things exist along with the standard tech that are cars, buses, motorcycles etc. I do hope you guys enjoy. Happy reading!

Feet tapped quietly along the tiled floor. Careful eyes surveyed the area, searching for multiple things like video crystals, scattered security guards, potential steals and more importantly the rope to your escape, which on the other side of the main hall of museum of magic.The circuit wasn’t a problem. If one planned and scouted the layout just right, they could take all the time in the world picking valuables of their choosing. Even with the power of manipulating time, no one had the luxury of wasting it. Besides, using something like that would take the thrill out of it all. The biggest challenge of every heist was making it a success and by that, not getting caught. Not every escape will be clean and receiving damage wasn’t out the equation. Your leg was still recovering from a nasty bruise. 

You paused at the atrium entrance to regain breath. Adrenaline was getting to you more than usual this go round. Tonight’s haul was sure to make anyone excited, but you had to stay calm. The grip on your bag tightened as you wiped the sweat from your forehead. Faint clicking of shoes could be heard not too far where you were. Shit… The time intervals were a bit off by your calculations. So much for doing things quietly. Atrium’s acoustics was ridiculously receptive. A mouse’s pattering could be heard clearly in the dead silence. You let out an airless sigh. No time thinking on formalities. ‘OK, on the count of three. One…’ you shifted your position into a sprinting stance. 

‘Two…’ 

“HEY!” 

Your head whipped around to see who was there. A shadow of a guard littered the wall at the end of the hallway and by the looks of it shrinking, they were close to turning the corner. Thankfully, that outburst caught their attention then sped off to see about another guard’s distress. On the down side, your handiwork was discovered as well. No doubt they’ll sound the alarms. Maybe you could use the confusion to your advantage. Then again, your escape route was a sum odd feet away and just run for it. However, you thoughts were disrupted as a sound of clicking filled your ears. Turning your gaze up to the various crystals high on the walls changed from blue to yellow then red. Soon after, a blaring siren rang through the vicinity. The atrium’s acoustics amped the sound, making you winced at the shrill noise. In the midst of it, you could hear frantic footsteps going about, orders being given, a curse word here and there. 

Everyone’s occupied. 

Good.

You tunnel visioned on the rope dangling on the other side of the vast open space then took off. Long sprints made you more easier to spot but it saved energy to climb with moderate difficulty. The voices were getting louder, meaning the guards were close by and you wouldn’t dare to look back. As you ran, two guards came into the area, searching for any intruders. One of them looked in your direction and eyes grew wide with horror at the sight of you but more importantly, the bag of stolen items on your back. Hitting their colleague on the shoulder, they pointed. “Hey man, over there!” 

The second guard followed the first’s arm, gasped then frowned at the sight of you. “HEY! YOU! STOP!” Your heart skipped beats then pumped loudly as your instincts said to run faster. A natural reflex but after some training, you learned how to control those impulses when things heated up. Just a few more feet and you were almost out of there. Wait a minute… Sweat beaded on your forehead and your back felt warmer than usual. You looked around to see a red-orange light illuminating the area then looked back enough to see a fireball hurling your way. There was no room to counter so you dove forward, sliding on the tile floor as the flame flew past. You didn’t want the items getting damaged. The wind was knocked out of you for a bit when you hit the floor. However, you slid enough to where the rope was. A gloved hand gripped the rope and yanked. A sigh of relief escaped you as it was still secure and undamaged. You couldn’t tie it around your waist like you originally planned so improvising it was. Wrapping the rope around your hand, you jumped high as you could and latched on what hung from the top.

FWOOSH!

“Gah!” you yelped, swinging out the way of another fireball hitting the wall. You swallowed nervously at the burnt char on the wall then looked back to see the two guards approach the hallway entrance. The two huffed and puffed as one reached for crystal from their belt to call for backup. “ALL UNITS TO MY LOCATION! WE FOUND ‘EM!!” Not good. More sweat formed and slid down your face as you climbed. What their next move was no mystery as they brought out wooden batons tipped with a spherical crystal. “WE’LL TRY TO APPREHEND THE THIEF!”

“Copy that.” said a voice on the other line then it went silent. This really wasn't good. Guards were trained to know the ins and outs of this place. Wouldn’t be long until the backup arrived and you had to think fast. Batons were pointed towards your direction and the tips began to glow red orange. “Damn pest.” A stout looking guard hissed then fired.

Sort of a squeak left you, feeling the heat from not so close and very close fireballs shot at your person. Small flicker flames grazed your legs every so often but you had to stay focused. With the artifacts in tow, the guards couldn’t hit you directly. Too risky. Using scatter shots was the better approach to dishevel the enemy. Hearing frustrated growls indicated the tactic had little affect. “Where’s the blasted backup?!” The other guard barked impatiently. “He’ll get away with the goods at this rate!” He flung his wrist in rapid motions, sending fireballs haphazardly up towards you. Each continued to shoot past then splash against either the ceiling or the upper walls. Seemed as though these two only knew low level spells or at least what they were authorized to know. 

“Ngggah! This isn’t getting us anywhere!” growled the stout guard ceasing fire only to aim his baton directly at you. His partner shot a look as if he was crazy. “Have you gone daft man?!” By his accent, this one was of Scottish descent. “You know we can’t risk the items getting damaged!” 

“Damage be damned if they leave the premises on our watch! That’ll be our jobs!” Red-orange glew within the orb piece, getting brighter by the second. Seeing the light illuminate the walls, you paused climbing to glance down. Your body broke out in a cold sweat. Not good. Was that guard serious about using that attack? One of the items in your bag would react to the magic levels if you were hit, thus worst case scenario, causing a chain reaction then boom! You shuddered at the mental image of the entire museum blowing to bits then resumed climbing the rope a bit quicker this time. The two guards were arguing, debating more about what’s the best course of action. You knew it was a matter of time until it escalated and the spell fired due to carelessness.

“I’m telling ya man. Don’t do it!” pleaded the Scotsman, trying to seize the baton. The stout guard growled with annoyance then shoved his companion away. “Too late! I’m taking the shot!” He focused on your retreating form, eyes glaring with determination. “Take this you thievin’ bastard.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Sh-

“WHAT IN THE **_BLOODY HELL_** DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” a loud, frantic, but commanding voice boomed. The echo startled the two guards below as they turned to see who it was. “Captain Mahone!” they announced in unison and the stout guard fired on accident. 

“SHIT!”

“What have you doooone?!” Mahone screamed upon reaching the two men, along with five other guards who looked alert but nervous. They all watched as the sizable fireball sped up the high rise. The light getting brighter and closer, you had to think fast or that blast will be a nasty one. A couple of quick tugs on the rope, which was still secure, you kick off against the wall in front of you to swing to the left. There wasn’t anything to grip and you swung to the right then to the left again. This time the flaming ball soaring past, grazing your arm. You couldn’t hold in the strained cry that erupted from your throat. However, the sound was drowned out by the ball crashing into the skylight paneling. Glass shards rained down and the best you could do was hide your face from getting cut. One of Mahone’s crew stepped up and pointed up his baton and brief flash of white light, a sort of a barrier emitted from the crystal sphere, protecting the group.

Captain Mahone, who had British in his voice, berated the stout guard. “You imbecile! Do you know what could have happened if that was a direct hit?! Well do you!!” He stomped up to the shorter male with rage. 

“I-I tried to tell him sir.” said the Scotsman nervously glancing between them. Mahone set his fiery gaze to him then back to the one in front of himself. “I’ll deal with you later.” His words ice cold and the other guards swallowed hard, knowing that it was promise. “For now let’s handle our unwanted guest.” The Captain’s eyes narrowed, staring up at your dangling body.

You held onto the rope for dear life, hissing and seldom muttering curses as you tried to steady your breathing. The pain was more excruciating than you anticipated. The burning sensation felt like it melded down to the very bone. Just what was that spell that it left such secondary damage? Your clothes were dark but the blood soaked into the fabric, making the sleeve darker. Great… The cool air seeped in the wound just made it hurt worse. Your arm shook heavily as you tried to keep your grip but to no luck. Quickly, the strength depleted then your arm dropped to your side, fingers twitching. Damn, you felt like dead weight with one hand keeping you up. Vision blurring some, you could make out the guards barely. Only their security outfits were you to get a clearer picture of. Slowly raising your head, did you see the skylight being closer to you. 

Almost there. A few more climbs and you were Scott free.

Captain Mahone assessed the situation then gave his attention to the Scottish guard. “Since your friend isn’t one for reason. Why don’t you handle this.” In turn the said man walked up then aimed his baton at you. Mahone nodded with approval. “Now aim at the rope up top.” He commanded. 

“Y-Yes sir.” Nervousness took hold of the guard as his whole arm quivered. Sweat rolled down his brow, unsure if he could handle the pressure. He inhaled then exhaled to regain composure, eyes steady and stance solid. His sights were set on the rope above and the tip of his baton lit up. You dangled for a moment or so and groaned when you spotted the light again. This was not the outcome you expected to be. How could things go south so fast? Your breathing increased due to the pain in your arm that you tried desperately to will down but failing. You had to move. You had to endure. Once you were out, the real danger would be gone, your brain told you. That’s right. Just focus on that task and let it be your fuel. Squeezing your eyes shut, you swung your arm in one swift motion to grab the rope. Your eyes shot open with a heavy gasp then a hiss as muscles screamed in protest. Situating your feet on the wall and wrapping the rope in your hand tighter, you reached up with your injured arm then pulled while stepping up. One of the guards were about to fire and you didn’t want to find out where they were aiming at. 

Captain Mahone glared but was surprised by your tenacity to keep moving. He wasn’t the only one to have such reaction. “They’re still going at it?” Gasped a younger guard. 

“He must be desperate,” said another.

“Or stupid…” Mahone muttered. “Clearly the adrenaline has gone to their head. No matter. They won’t escape. Take the shot.” Stony eyes glanced at the aiming guard. Without a word, the Scotsman fired the fireball, flinching so when it launched. It zoomed towards you and you took a quick glance back then bunched into a semi-ball bracing for an impact that never came. Instead it hit something at the top and you smelt smoke and heard a prominent “Yes!” and cheers from below. You looked up and to your horror, the rope was burning. “Oh God…” You specially reinforced the rope before coming to the museum. Part of you really did not want to use your trump card this early. Cold sweat formed everywhere on your body as your eyes wouldn’t dare to leave the fire. _Keep going_. It was so faint yet bold at the same time. That still voice reverberated in your mind and you agreed with it even if anxiety began to settle in. Maybe you could out climb the fire or make it before the flame went out. 

The guards below shared high fives and fist bumps, so sure that they had you. Even Mahone had a smug look of victory on his face. “Very good men. It won’t be long now. Get the cuffs ready.” They all gather into a formation when you fall into their grasp. You didn’t stop climbing but slowed then pause with wide eyes. The flame was diminishing. You let out a brief sob of relief which grabbed the guards’ attention. Thankfully, the resin you concocted pulled through. You could make it. Damn it you had to.

The stout guard squinted then cursed under his breath when he saw the fire going out. “The fire’s goin’ out. Captain!” He looked to his Captain with worry. Dark eyes never left the sizzling rope. “Patience,” said Mahone. “The damage is done. We got him regardless.”

And he was correct. The fire was out but it burned enough for the rope to start giving and tearing. Nonononononononono- Your mind was now in slight panic mode and you stopped moving. Sounds of straining nylon and ripping fibers filled your ears. There was no other choice, you had to use it. Fiddling around in your pocket, all the while trying not to fumble, you retrieved a small vile that emitted a dull glow. You stared at it with uncertainty but with no other option, you broke the glass tip then poured the somewhat liquid glitter substance on your head. The rope gave away to where you dropped some and quickly held onto it, feet losing balance on the wall. “Shit!” you squeaked. 

The guard readied their batons per Mahone’s order after you poured whatever it was on yourself then had them fire. You this was a way to make you startled but you couldn’t afford to get burned again. Pushing against the wall, you swung a bit to dodge incoming fire. The straining on the rope stressed then snapped and soon you began to drop. OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOHGOOOOOOOD! Your mind went into a frenzy as a loud yell that you didn’t know you were capable of doing echoed through the area. Work. Work. Please work! Part of you believed this was it. Your life was over and wanted God to take your soul now before you hit the pile of guards waiting to capture you.

“What the hell???” a voice wondered in disbelief.  
“How can this be?”

“There’s nothing there so how?!”

“Pull yourselves together! It’s obviously a trick.”

“Then how can you explain this guy floating in midair?!!!”

“....Um well….”

What? Eyes fluttering open, blinking to readjust your vision. There stood frowning, confused and utter shocked faces of men that stared back at you with wide eyes of their own. You must have passed out mid-drop and woke to this. Looking around, you examined yourself and meeped when you moved too fast and somersaulted in a manner before wobbling for balance. Mahone gawked for a few second more then regained composure. “Don’t just stand there! Grab him!” 

One by one did the guards ceased their staring and tried jumping for you. You drew your legs up as you finally noticed you were down enough for them to make an effort nabbing you. “Get.” the stout one heaved. “Down here!” He jumped at you again as did others. Mahone had reached for a crystal and spoke into it about the main office contacting the authorities. You were starting to lose momentum as you started to sink lower which the guards noticed. You kicked your feet at their hands, trying to push up. You were gaining some distance when a guard squatted with his hands clasped together and you see one of them run to him. Your eyes widened and flapped with your free arm but the guard jumped into the other’s hand and was launched at you. “I have you now!”

You did a quick squat then pushed to launch yourself as well. However, the guard managed to latch on your leg and climbing. “Give up!” He commanded, voice young but stern. You slung your body to make him let go yet, he continued to reach as he was at your waist. “Get off me!” your mouth muffled by your mask. “Not unless you-” his hand reached again but grabbed what neither of you expected. “...give up???” Your face burned as you two stared at each other wide eyed. Unconsciously, the young guard gave your right breast a couple of light squeezes to see if he wasn’t dreaming. “You’re a-!?” A blush red and clear across his freckled face. 

You blinked but frowned at him. “I said _get. off. Me._ ” 

“GAH!” and down he went crashing on top of his peers. Being a green horn, you didn’t want to hurt the fella but taking advantage of him being off guard, you gave one good smack on his face. He laid there groaning from a nosebleed you guessed came from both occurrences. The force was enough to make you fly up higher then pushed off the wall to keep going until you could fly on your own. Maybe a little too fast. Your hand barely caught the open panel of the skylight as you stopped with your legs still in the air. Staring down, the guards appeared like spots shuffling as they ran off to probably the stairs to the roof. You sighed long and relieved that you were finally out of there. This had to be the worse escape on your record. No matter, you just had to leave the premises and into the night you go. 

After managing to settle your feet on solid ground, you readjusted the pack on your back then winced. That’s right your arm. Somewhere during the struggle it stopped bleeding and the pain dulled due to adrenaline. The wind that was a gentle breeze amped to a gust. You looked up to see clouds, dark ones, rolling in. Rain was soon to fall and a sound of distant thunder to support that fact. Blaring sirens, flashing red & blue lights and screeching wheels of police vehicles were entering the vicinity. You hoped to be long gone before they reached the roof. Speaking of, the rooftop door slammed open guards from earlier coming through, searching frantically for you. Time to go.

The sky was darker than normal with the storm clouds blocking the moon. If it weren’t for the close lightning strike illuminating your running form, they wouldn’t have seen you. “There! Don’t let her escape!” Heat rose to your cheeks once more with embarrassment. Ugh what a horribly cliche way to figure out what you were. Remaining anonymous was the goal after all, but you supposed it couldn’t be helped. The edge of the building drew near and you had to remember you mental mapping of the buildings surrounding the museum. All you knew was that you had to make a long jump. A very long one. Luckily, you applied your getaway ticket, but you weren’t sure how long it will last. Great time to think about that now, you thought sarcastically. You halted at the edge and rain suddenly began to pour. You leaned over to seen the cops below then looked back at the guards speeding towards you, yelling nowhere to run. A smile spread behind your dark mask, they didn’t get it. Taking a few steps back, you took off at top speed praying that the rain wouldn’t make you slip and slide. Voices screamed and yelled for you not to jump or don’t be stupid. With a heavy heave and long jump, you sprung into the air with some sort of a glitter trail lightly flying off you. 

Your heart pounded in your ears while you focused on landing on the other building. Eyes watched you as if it was a dramatic scene in an action film. You felt light as a feather going up but like a anchor coming going down only to be cushioned by an unknown force, your feet touching the roof gracefully. Your hands were shaking and you looked towards the guards at the other roof. They gawked at you with disbelief like they did previously. Blinking at them then to your hands and out of nowhere, you fist pumped your downward, your knee lifting up. “Yes!” You celebrated with satisfaction. Lightning flashed and a second later loud thundering shook the ground as if telling you to stay focused. Shaking your head, you darted off, continuing your escape over the rooftops along with the police barking to chase after you.

Heavy rain poured down harder and police cars drove by slowly, flashing lights into dark alleys to find their mystery thief. Not a moment after a figure sped by creeping to what appeared to be a fire escape. They climbed until they reached a partly cracked window on the second floor. They lifted it with familiarity, knowing that it gets jammed if handled improperly. Legs entered first then came in a body. A dark backpack was set carefully on what appeared a wooden floor. After closing the window, they staggered tiredly to a window seat, dragging the bag with them. Shoes were kicked off, socks tossed as they were soaked, next came the gloves. This person sat down with a plop on the soft cushions, shifted so that their feet was up on the seat. A long sigh passed through their lips and their head hung down. In the silence, a hand reached to remove a mask from their head to reveal a messy and wet hair. Tires eyes glance out the window at the street lights and occasional cars passing through then to a reflection that stared back.

“You look like shit…” you chuckled some at yourself in the window. Tonight was hell as all the other nights were but, this night had a special meaning. You unzipped the bag and fished around until you found what you were looking for. Fingers smoothed over it with care then brought it closer for examination. An amulet adorned with jewels and engravings on the metal plating. You’d make a pretty penny off this one. A lazy smile spread on your lips. For now, you placed it back in the pack, got up then put it on your good shoulder. Tonight was hell, but a good night nonetheless. All you wanted was a shower, lather your burned arm in ointment and crash on your bed. The thought appealed to you the more tired you became. Gathering the discarded clothing, you ventured further in your dark apartment.


	2. Denizens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! I know it's been a couple of months since the first chapter. You know how life can take you around before getting a break. That and I art a lot so that takes my attention as well :'3 So those kinda knocked me off my square for a while. However! I was working on this chapter in between things and managed to get it done! It's not as long like I thought it would be, but it holds significance regarding Reader-chan~ I hope you guys enjoy! And sorry for the wait!

A few days passed since that night. Seeing, naturally, the authorities were still up and active in locating their ma- er...woman thief. In which, you were sure the poor young guy you smacked, verified in the most intimate way possible. Your mind had quite the creative process of making things more awkward than it needed to be. Every time the scenario replayed in your thoughts, tiny mental side comments could be heard… 

‘Honk honk’ at the squeezing of your chest. 

Or ‘Bet it’s his first touching them too.’ 

Those were the lesser crude statements. Honestly, you didn’t know if there was another person living in your head or you were suffering a bad case of second hand embarrassment since then. A hand came to your face as your cheeks heated for the umteenth time today. The color wasn’t as visible due to the night sky and rain, but people were giving odd glances at your sudden flustered state. This was not how you wanted this story to start at all… You sat at a bus stop which had a covering long enough to keep your feet from getting too wet from raindrops splashing on the concrete. The shower was pouring rather heavily when you left your apartment. Weatherman said there’d be showers but no one expected to get this much. Flash Flood watches were put into effect last you saw on your TV. However, it appeared the raining slacked up from harsh roaring to a steady hum. You exhaled softly, regaining composure then took a peek at your watch. Almost time. Opening your umbrella, you stood, checked the sidewalk traffic and made your way down the street. Better hurry, you had a delivery to make. 

The walk wasn’t too arduous, only busy streets and the rain kicking up to a downpour once more. Your trek led from the semi-metro area to the historical district. Old fashion buildings, signs, street lamps even the street itself had the original brick lay. You stood at the crosswalk edge, watching cars pass by and waiting for the signal to change. That’s when you could feel the tingling in your legs. Many times have you traveled the route and always you forget to call a cab. Been doing it for so long, it’s integrated in your being. No matter the weather, you’d walk from your apartment to the building you just crossed the street to get to. The yellow, green and teal neon lights spelled out _‘Saint Bernard’s’_. 

 

You approached the entrance and the door opened before you could grab the knob. Looking up, a man that appeared to be in his late forties stared down at you with wide surprised eyes for a brief moment before flashing his signature lopsided smile you came to like over the years. “Well, well, well, lookie what we ‘ave here.” His Philly accent heavily apparent. You blinked a bit then smirked, placing your free hand on your hip. Dean Crenshaw. Six feet and some odd inches, from an overheard conversation, he’s three-hundred twenty-eight pounds with half of that being pure muscle. A demolition specialist by trade then a hired hand by demand. The scars riddled about his arms and gunpowder stains from long extended handling on his hands were proof of his expertise. He also had a knack for crocheting or so rumors said. 

“Right back atcha pal.” Your smirk grew. “I thought you were off on that new job by now. As braggy as you were about it few weeks ago.” Dean let out a low laugh, the only visible lines seen on his face when his eyes closed. Rare grays lit up with amusement as he leaned against the doorframe after his laugh died down to a chuckle. “Trying ta get rid of me are ya? So cruel. I leave the day after tomorrow so I thought to drop by here for a while before I vanish.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the use of terminology. “Vanish? You’re not falling off the face of the planet, Dean.” He was one to exaggerate off and on. “You had long missions before right? Not starting to get cold feet are you?”

Broad shoulders dropped when Dean glared at you briefly with a smirk. “Ha ha ha. Very funny, but nah dat ain’t it. This job is… a little different this go round.”

“It’ll be alright man. You’re the _Disrupter_ remember? Just think of how fun living up to the moniker once again would be, huh huh?” You leaned near the taller man, doing elbow nudges on his right arm. “Really…?” he said giving you a deadpan look, but otherwise still amused.

“Yes, really.” You smiled confidently. “Now get your iron giant ass outta my way so I can get in. Sugar can only stay in the rain for so long.” 

“Last I checked sugar was sweet.” He adjusted his stance to block the doorway more. Taking a step closer, you let down your umbrella, shaking the excess water then waved it at Dean. “Last I checked, sugar can also knock your teeth out. Now move. My back’s getting wet.” The both of you laughed as you shoved him inside then closed the door. You set your bag on the floor and pulled off your jacket. Dean studied you and arched a brow. “Wow, ain’t you dolled up? What’s the occasion?”

“Hm?” You paused to look in his direction. To be fair, your attire was in the realm of a girls’ night out or typically a date. A midnight black scoop neck sweater with elbow length sleeves, a thick flat gold necklace that hung at your collarbone, a calf length, two layered skirt; the under layer being a solid black and the outer being sheer black with gold symmetrical shapes. On your feet donned equally as dark pointed toe heels which were two inches high. Your makeup flawless… well as flawless as you could make it and your hair in an updo you always wanted to test out until tonight. 

“What’s the occasion?” Dean repeated with a chuckle. 

“OH... I’m here to celebrate.” Your jacket draped over your left forearm then placed your bag, Dean spied it to be a fancy duffle bag, on your right shoulder and umbrella in tow. 

“Celebrating what exactly?”

You couldn’t help to smirk then smile soon after. Dean’s eyes narrowed at your smile and silence, but he could tell you were in a very good mood. To him and what he learned over time, you were hiding or scheming something whenever this happened. “Don’t look at me like that,” you said. “ _You_ were just leaving remember?”

“How exactly am I to be content with a vague answer like that?”

“Pshh! You’re just nosey.” The umbrella tip jabbing him in the stomach a couple times. “Besides, not every time will you get what you want. Sometimes that’s all you’re going to get no questions asked.”

“Maybe,” laughed Dean. “But what’s a celebration without having someone to join in on the fun, huh?”

You looked Dean up and down giving him that ‘yeah right’ stare. In turn, he gave a lazy half grin. One you knew secretly made you weak. Damn him… Sighing you handed him your jacket and umbrella. “Fiiine. You can tag along, but don’t blame me if you get hammered out of your gorde again. I’m ordering the good stuff tonight.”

“Oh ho ho~ the good stuff huh? You must have somethin’ juicy to tell then. I’m glad I’m sticking around.” He took your things and the two of you walked the hallway towards the inner bar entrance. “Keep yapping and you’ll be paying the bill.” You threatened, adjusting the shoulder strap. “So mean… I might cry.” Dean feigned hurt, pouting. 

“Cry me a river and I’ll be golden.” You glanced at him, smirking. 

“Damn, girl…” He opened the door then moved to let you through. “Remind me not to call you for emotional support.”

“You don’t have my number to begin with.” You wiggled an index finger at him as you entered. 

“That can be easily be rectified.” Dean had that usual smile plastered on his face after pausing to stare at him with wide eyes. The chatter of the bar was louder than normal, but it didn’t drown out what you heard. Now, Dean was a simple guy. He exaggerated. Yes. He teased. Yes. And overall, he was straight to the point about things. Either he dug it or he didn’t. The two of you were at a place between a rivalry and nemeses mixed with a hint of something else that didn’t have a definition at the moment. All your time coming to Saint Bernard’s, Dean never showcased interest to get to know you outside of the bar scene. Neither did you, really. You found him strikingly attractive and he wasn’t a complete jerk at heart. Maybe it’s an instance where just being at the bar was better or it kept the sense of mystery. Whichever it was, him indirectly saying (or not) that he wanted your number threw you for a loop. You shifted your weight on your left foot, studying his face, pondering in thought.

“I’ll think about it.” You finally said. Dean chuckled and ushered you forward. “Fair enough.”

Moving through crowd of people, you noticed familiar faces, who greeted you with happy slurred drunkenness or other drunkard personalities. One individual in particular that you didn’t want to see while intoxicated, grabbed your forearm, making you stop and Dean almost running into you. The urge to eye roll was fought down when you looked at your captor. 

“Eeeeeeyyyyyy if it ain’t my favorite rookie~ hic!” 

“Hello Mitch,” you greeted with a strained smile, pulling away from his hold. A stubby looking man stumbled from the booth, nearly falling, but caught balance at the last second. Fingers adjusted the brown ivy cap on top of short, reddish-brown curly hair. Blue irises glazed over and a harsh red across his cheeks and beak nose while the rest of his face was pink. Unlike Dean’s all dark colors attire of black jeans, grey v-neck tee, black leather jacket and boots, Mitch was different. His appearance was that of a businessman from back in the day. A seaweed colored tweed blazer with the light brown elbow patches, the vest to match, a white collared shirt underneath along with a plum bowtie, creased khaki slacks and rusty brown dress shoes. He’d almost be considered classy if he didn’t have the appeal of a shady car salesman and a weasel all together…

He leaned a bit too closely, which you took a step back after taking a long sniff of your perfume. “Smellin’ delectable more than usual this time…” he mumbled then gave a quick scan over your outfit and the bag on your shoulder. “And lookin’ all fancy shmancy too.” His gaze went to Dean behind you. “And having Mr. Tall, Dark & Smoky in tow as well.” He put his hands on his hips. “Speakin’ of, ain’t you uh- hic- suppose ta be gone getting ready fer that new job of yours, Smorcy?” 

Dean’s eye twitched in the slightest at the nickname. “Don’t call me that Mitchell. I don’t leave until Sunday. I think I can spare a few more hours.” He placed a large hand on your shoulder. “Our gal here, will be celebrating tonight and I wanted in on the action.”

Mitch squinted his eyes at Dean real hard at the emphasis of his formal name being dropped. “‘Zat right? Then what? You two finally givin’ in and have a night of hate boot knockin’ afterwards- OW!” He hopped on his left foot cradling his right leg after you kicked him in the shin, hard. “Easy! Easy! My insurance ain’t in effect yet.” 

“Should’ve thought about that before you opened your mouth.” You said in an ‘as a matter of fact’ tone. “Next time don’t be so loose lipped and be glad it was just your shin.”

“She coulda gotcha in the balls.” Dean chuckled as Mitch tried to do the same but groaned from the stinging in his leg still. “Shall we?” He squeezed your shoulder a bit.

“Yeah.” Your head nodded then took a look at your watch and you gasped. “I really need to go. I’ll see you at the bar.” You tipped off in a half jog towards the bar, leaving Dean behind. You were going to be late. 

“Excuse me. Pardon me.” Your body weaved and wedged through and by people until you rushed to take a bar stool in a huff. You glanced at the clock on the wall above the alcohol shelf. The seconds hand ticked away as the minute and hour hands slowly changed from 7:59 to 8:00 pm. Literally saved by a minute and as if on cue, a man rounded the corner behind the bar. 

Green eyes searched until they landed on you and with a smile, he approached you. “Awesome, you made it. I thought you were going to be late for sure.”

You smiled sheepishly. “C’mon, you know I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Jeremy.” Because if you did, Dean and Mitch would’ve had more than a new one ripped out of them, but mostly Mitch. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you got comfortable as possible on the stool. “I see you’ve been busy.” 

Jeremy chuckled somewhat tiredly as he ran a hand through his brown choppy hair. “Ever since one in the afternoon…” Jeremy Devereaux. Folks at the bar called him Jer, but you called him Remy. He was around your age and you’ve known him for a long time. A dreamer, visionary and charmer, Jeremy had ideas of owning a business when the two of you were younger. Although, he wasn’t sure what type of business he wanted to dabble in at the time. The bar scene didn't seem to be his thing but he grew to appreciate then love it. If anything, he aspired to be some hot shot who lived in those pretentious penthouses on the top of a fifty something floored building. But hey, a condo was just as nice right? Considering he landed a gig of being part of a conglomerate a few years back. The details worried you, they still kind of do, but Remy always seemed to fair in the thick of it all.

“Well just a few more hours and you’ll be a free man.” You grinned.

“I wish…” said Jeremy, “Got maintenance checks, stock checks and processing everything else to do after closing. Man I need a vacation once all this is over.”

You tilted your head then mouthed an “oh” after a realization. “That’s right. It is processing season isn’t it? How do you actually deal with all the numbers and statistics?” 

“Thankfully, I have an assistant to help sort out most of the logs. Uptown was… generous enough to send one from their main offices.” He rested his elbows on the counter as he looked down the left of the bar, which was the right for you, to see a woman with semi-long dark hair serving another customer a drink. “She’s a bit strict, but she has been a huuuuge help.” 

“That’s good. You looked like total crap few months back. I thought I had to take you to a hospital when you almost collapsed.”

Jeremy chuckled tiredly and straightened up to full height. He yawned then peared at his watch. His sluggish posture immediately change to one of alertness. “Well it’s almost 8:15,” then he looked to you. “I don’t have to ask, but I have to say it because protocol procedure…” his eyes did a quick glance to his assistant, who glanced back at him with a neutral stare then back to what she was doing. “Do you have the desirables?”

Your face lit up as you tried not to smile harder than you could show. God, have you long waited to hear those words. “Yeah, I got them.” The duffle bag on your shoulder was set carefully on the bar top. Jeremy smiled. “Excellent.” He grabbed the strap from your hand as Dean finally made it to you, taking a seat on a stool to your left. The taller man eyed your bag then between you and Jeremy. “Looks like I made it just in time.”

“Dean? I thought you were gone for the night.” Jeremy said putting the bag on his shoulder. 

“Mmmm- yeah I was,” he began, handing your jacket and umbrella to you, “that is until I ran into our lady, here, at the front door. She said she was celebrating tonight, but ain’t spilling for what, so I thought I stick around,” He leaned closer to the bar top, resting his folded arms on the surface. “See what’s the hullabaloo’s about.”

“You’re in luck then,” said Jeremy with a cheshire grin. “Magic is certainly gonna happen tonight.”

Dean raised a dark brow at him then to you. “OK now I’m really curious. What’s going on? No dodging. No bush beating.”

“I like your nerve.” You chuckled as you rested your jacket in your lap and umbrella against the bar. “It’s my business to begin with. I don’t necessarily have to give that out, you know…Plus I thought the bag was a giveaway. Don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking glances.” You gave Dean a slight shove, narrowing your eyes at him. “You ain’t slick.”

“Hey! I thought you’d spill the first time I asked you. Don’t get mad at me.” Dean laughed, holding on to the stool when you shoved him. “If we’re perfectly honest here, it was your clothes. You’re not this dressed up when you make a delivery. Which means right now you’re…” He got quiet for a moment, his brow creasing some. You gave him a knowing smirk as Jeremy shook his head smiling. Gray eyes lit up, growing wide when the thought finally hit. This time, you could hold back a giggle and grinning with amusement. 

“Well I’ll be damned!” Dean put a hand to his forehead. “You were gunning for that all this time?!” You shook your head and laughed when the big man’s arm hooked around your shoulder. “No wonder you celebrating tonight! Good on ya Cas!” His hand shaking your being as he side hugged you. “Ey Gen!” He called to the dark haired woman. “First round’s on me!” 

She nodded as she continued to serve drinks. “You don’t have to do that, Dean.” You looked up at him with a tiny tinge of heat spreading across your cheeks. He looked to you with that usual smile along with a flash of teeth, making you blush more. Damn it, why did he have a killer smile? “Nonsense, you aiming high. That’s cause for celebrating. I’m proud of ya.” 

Jeremy’s eyes widened with mock surprise. “Whaaat? Dean _“The Disrupter”_ Crenshaw. **_Proud_ **? Of the one he gave so much hell to and received just as equal damnation from her? Wow… You must be getting soft or hell must have frozen over.”

“Or he’s feenin’ fer that-hic- hate sex after all.”

Dean’s smile dropped as your warm face ran cold and Jeremy had a look of utter confusion. Clammy hands each landed heavily on your and Dean’s shoulders. “Amirite Smorcy?” Oh joy…

“Piss off Mitch… damn…” Dean groaned and shrugged the man’s hand off. He released you as you both straightened up. He thought he’d ditched the drunk in the crowd. 

“Mitch can you, for once, not be an pain in the ass… or not be an ass in general?” you stated brushing his grubby hand away with slight annoyance. His palms were always damp somewhat. Just didn’t feel right. When you first shook hands with Mitch, an unsettling anxiety gripped you. No trust was to be placed in this man outside of deal making. Even then it was hard to put stock into what he says.

Scratchy laughter filled your ears as he took a seat at the stool next to you. “Seems like I might be right.” Mitch half sneered and grinned at you and Dean. “Sorry if I ruined your secret plans.” His breath reeked of beer and a mix of something else you couldn’t place your finger on. 

“You couldn’t be more far from the truth.” You rolled your eyes. He wasn’t going to ruin your night of achievement. Tonight was your chance and refused to be put in a rut because of _Bitchell_ , as some folks came to nickname him. 

“I think you had too much to drink. The alcohol’s dissolved whatever your definition of common sense you had left…” said Dean. “Maybe you should go home. Sleep it off.”

“Great advice Smorcy, but-hic- if I drive impaired, I’d get pulled ova or worse.”

“A night in jail would do you some good.” 

“Not everyone can have such luxuries like you.”

 

“Hmm you’re right. The ‘or worse’ bit might be better suited for you.”

Mitch winced and sucked air through his teeth. “Ouch so mean Smorcy. ‘Ere I thought you were an honorable man.”

“I am, but no use casting pearls to the swine, right?” Dean smirked as you snickered and Remy choked on a laugh. 

“He’s gotcha there, Mitch,” you said. “And you,” your finger pointed to Remy, “better get goin’ or you’re going to be late.” Remy glanced at the clock once more and cursed under his breath and readjusted the strap on his shoulder. “It’ll be awhile before I get back. Drink till your heart's’ content and don’t cause any trouble.” He looked between Dean and Mitch as he spoke. The two men scoffed and grunted in response. Giving you a nod, Remy moved quickly to enter the doorway he emerged from earlier when you arrived.

Silence rested among the three of you for a few moments before Mitch turned to you with a knowing smile. “Now that that business is ova, why don’t ya be a doll and spill it.” You eyed him as Dean sighed. “You really don’t know how mind your business do you?” 

“Why keep prolongin' it?” asked Mitch. “Might as well share the big news. The way Smorcy-hic-was all ova you ova whateva you were ‘gunnin’ fer’ earlier, it must be good.” You studied the man for a moment, contemplating if you should say it at all. Him being there put a damper on your happy mood and you somehow felt that was a minor motive of his. Dean stayed quiet as he looked between you and Mitch, his face neutral. Mitch waited patiently for your answer, eyes narrowing and smile slowly growing. His cheeks still flushed red from drinking. A chuckled sigh left you and your head shook. Dean gave you a quizzical stare as Mitch’s brows rose.

“Causing trouble even though the boss said not to? You’re pushing your luck Mr. Flanagan.” A new voice called out. Three pairs of eyes went to the speaker. There came the dark haired woman from earlier with two glasses in one hand and a single glass in the other. Mitch’s eyes held a glint as he adjusted his bow tie and turned in his stool to face the bar. Dean eyed her up and down, his usual smile now present. You had a smile of relief and thanks to the woman. Sharp eyes stared at Mitch as the glasses were placed in front of you. “Keep such behavior up and I’ll have your membership suspended myself.” 

“Let’s not be too hasty Ms. Geneva,” said Mitch leaning on the bar top. “Who else am I ta have lovely company with?” Geneva or Gen as most call her, simply stared at Mitch, unimpressed with his words. “There are plenty of people to converse with outside the bar. I won’t say it again. Do not trouble other guild members, Mr. Flanagan.” Her eyes narrowing with warning. 

Hands raised in defeat at her words. “Your wish is my command, doll.” Mitch backed off knowing when Geneva said something, there was promise behind it. She gave him a final stare before turning her attention to you and Dean, her features softening some. “What can I get for you this evening?” Dean ordered gin and juice, you, getting something you don’t normally drink, brandy and Mitch requesting a bottle of rum. The atmosphere of the bar started to lift your spirit after settling in. The white noise of various conversations, light music playing and the television going, the scene made you feel at ease once more. 

Geneva returned with the liquors and the four of you struck up a conversation. Around town gossip, national press, politics, the usual things of everyday life. Each person in St. Bernard’s were casual regulars. Average folks working and striving to make a living. Still, it was odd to believe that this bar was a registered guild. There were guilds for all kinds of things and specialties. From marauders to clerics, to warlocks and paladins. Of course in a very modern era with cars and technology, the mystical and magic were integral parts of society. Guilds built around those specifics are highly sought after by everyone. However, there are guilds that enlist those with more hands on expertise that required little magic abilities. Remy’s bar was one of them. A guild for those who can utilize their talents through low profile means. Secret missions and covert espionage. Information gathering and retrieval jobs. So in a way, a guild for thieves, robbers and agents. For Dean, it was the secret missions. For you, the retrieval jobs. As for Mitchell Flanagan, it was information gathering. More specifically, he was an Info Broker. 

If you wanted to know about something, somewhere or someone, you talk to Mitch. There wasn’t much he did not know about or had the scoop on. His knowledge considerably was most reliable among those who led a life in that profession. He wouldn’t be so bad, again, if he wasn’t shady as hell. At the early start of your heist career, you tried to avoid going to him at all if possible. Unfortunately, you were stumped on finding information on an artifact and of all of who you consulted, they had no knowledge of its location let alone its existence. Mitch knew of the details of what it was, what its properties were and where to find it. What he wanted for that information was for you to do something for him in the field of your expertise and shake his hand. By doing so, you were bound by a magic contract and what it entailed was for him to know and for you to find out later. It was a means of doing dirty work for him. You learned that the hard way after nearly getting caught for stealing files and a cache of currency you had no clue as to what it was at the time. Since then you tried not to make deals with him again unless it just called for it. You made sure even that wouldn’t happen. 

Times with Dean at the start of joining the guild were pure hell. At the time he had made a name for himself among the ranks. He taunted you with every chance. Whenever you had a job, he’d try to ruffle your feathers before going on them. He’d call you out, make you the butt end of jokes and list of jerkass nonsense goes on. You weren’t one to sit and take offenses you didn’t deserve. Right there in front of every regular, you told Dean what you wanted him to know and that was how you gained street cred within the guild. Sure you had it from the few jobs you completed, but telling off one high rankers was considered gusty for some odd reason… You didn't care about anyone else’s status other than building your own. You didn’t care about who was important or up there. You’d meet them soon enough. The goal was to get established then work from there to get to the night you were fancy dressed up for. A few days after that spat with Dean, he backed off for a while. It was a week or so, did he start speaking to you again and invited you to have a chat with him. To keep it simple, he didn’t like you. You didn’t like him. He didn’t like your attitude. You didn't like his. He had no confidence in your abilities and you held little regard for his. The both of you made your thoughts known that day and strange how it ended on a good? note. To this day, you weren’t sure how your relationship became the way it did. At least it was on more than cordiable terms. Now it included instances of being close quarters or wisecracking the other with certain undertones. In a way, the two of could very well trust each other in a pinch. Through all the bs, you gained respect and that’s what mattered.

In the midst of the chatter and music, the television and speakers scattered about chimed up in volume with a ‘Breaking News’ alert. The people quieted as your chatting group did and turn your attention to the screen.

“We interrupt this broadcast with a new report of another attack and sightings of multiple wraiths,” announced the reporter. Gasps and few murmurs could be heard. Some people pulled out their phones to see the news blowing up on the Web. “Around 7:24 this evening, a man and his companions were attacked and one of them managed to get footage of the ghastly creatures. What we’re about display are disturbing images. Viewer discretion is advised.”

Immediately the video started out with panicked breathing and heavy feet running. The display was shaky, but stable enough to catch sight of the individuals the reporter described. Audio full of censored cursing. “Oh my God! What is that?! What the f-BLEEP is that?!” “Shut the f-BLEEP up and run!” 

Light was barely visible other than the streetlights. Low ominous noises that sounded like weary groaning and hoarse hissing could be heard in the background. “Dear gods, we’re gonna die!” “Just keep running damn it!” The camera would get glimpses of a black wispy figure flying in the sky not too far behind them.“Let’s try and shake it!” The one recording shouted. Soon the groaning got louder as did the hissing. Sweat formed on your face and your hands balled into fists. No one could take their eyes from the screen.

“S-BLEEP! I think there’s more of them!” “WHAT?!!” “NONONONONONONO…” “How did they even get in this far?!” “I dunn- AAHHH F-BLEEEEEEP!!!” “What is it?!” “There’s one there! And there!” Heavier breathing turned into pants, more distorted groaning and a new sound of moaning. “OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOOOOOOOD!” “I see nowhere else to go!” “THEY’RE EVERYWHERE- **_GAAAAAAAAH!_** ”

Suddenly more black wispy looking figures came out of nowhere, flailing around, surrounding the group. The camera moved erratically, trying to get clear shots of the beings. Scream after scream echoed into the night then there was static. Once the video ended the screen went back to the reporter, whose face looked pale and distressed like the rest of you in the bar. It took them a few seconds to regain composure but there were lines still under their eyes. “The...the uh…” They shook their head and took a deep breath. “The persons were found nearly thirty minutes later in the middle of the road seemingly unresponsive…” 

The broadcast went on about the whereabouts the incident occurred and this made everyone anxious. Just outside the downtown area where the warehouses were. There were some neighborhoods located not too far from them. Thankfully, there were no other reports of the wraiths going anywhere near the communities. ...But

“That’s still too close.” Dean commented with a frown, hand still on the glass. You and Geneva nodded in agreement. Wraiths were creatures of the dark. They inhabited places like graveyards, catacombs, caves, literally anywhere that involved darkness, devoid and death. Mostly found away from civilization. These incidents were becoming more frequent as of late and it wasn’t just your city-state area. A few other cities and towns have been experiencing these attacks and sightings. This would soon be labeled as an epidemic if left unchecked. The once cheery atmosphere changed into a solemn one as the chatter died down to talks of the recent news. 

“So much for a celebration eh rookie?” Mitch said smiling as he poured rum into his glass. You shot the broker an astonished stare. “Are you serious? Of all the things to say you spew that shit?” Your brow ceased deeply. All of you watched people possibly die on national television and he had to comment about that? Geneva gave him a stony glare while Dean shook his head with a huff then threw back the rest of what’s left of his drink. “You’re despicable, Bitchell.”

Mitch’s smile fell after being called that. “Refrain from callin’ me that Smorcy.” His voice harsh as he eyed the taller man next to you. Dean set the glass down and stared at him with a neutral face. “And if I don’t? What can ya do about it, _Bitchell_?” 

“Oh ho ho, I can make yer life a livin’ hell, Smorcy. You know I can do it.” 

“You’d be too beat up to even make something happen.” 

“Is that a bet?” The stubby man turned in his stool as did Dean. The tension was thick and it was getting to you. Both men stood up then you smacked your fist in the bar top hard, glasses shaking and clinking. “That’s enough you two! Sit your asses down!” Your voice firm and clear. “People might have died and you’re having a dick measuring contest, sit DOWN!” You stood to shove both of them back on their seats. 

“Criminey!” You huffed then downed your brandy in one gulp. “Another please.” You looked to Geneva, who sighed and nodded, pouring more into your glass. The anxiety in the bar affected you and the video frazzled your nerves. You didn’t need a petty spat to be the cherry topper. Dean muttered an apology and Mitch merely snorted. Your foot tapped on the stool foot rest as you took a sip. A buzz and a ding sounded from the confines of your jacket pocket. Pulling out your phone, you saw a text from Remy regarding your delivery. Your prayed it be good news. Lord knows, you didn’t want anymore anxiety tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You came to have a good time but, sometimes reality likes to burst in and ruin the fun... Raise your glass girl. It'll get better.

**Author's Note:**

> Good work friend. You had quite the night, but it was well worth it. Get some rest. You deserve it.


End file.
